They’re not looking at you. They’re drawn to your dasha.

They’re not seeing you, not really. They’re pulled by something else entirely. Your dasha hums beneath the surface. It’s a clock made of stars. Not loud, but deeply magnetic. Each phase brings a new feeling. You shift without even trying. People react without knowing why. They stare, pause, lean in closer. You glow and don’t notice it. They feel it, not understand it. You are timing wrapped in skin. The universe speaks through your presence. You just live, but they feel.

Then one day it fades away. The attention softens into quiet distance. No one turns. No one stays. You’re the same, but unseen again. This isn’t failure. It’s not rejection. It’s the sky changing its mind. Your spotlight moves somewhere else now. Another planet holds the thread gently. You’re not less. Just somewhere else. A new chapter starts unfolding slowly. This time is for silence, for stillness. You’re not meant to be watched now. You’re meant to listen, to become.

Every planet gives a different rhythm. Venus draws soft eyes and open hearts. Mercury sparks words, wit, and movement. Saturn teaches through stillness and weight. Ketu pulls things away, without warning. These aren’t moods. They’re life seasons. They shape how others feel you. You don’t need to force connection. You need to honor the timing. Trust your energy’s quiet instructions. Some seasons are made for magnetism. Others are built for letting go.

Sometimes your dasha meets another’s perfectly. You click without needing reasons. They feel like déjà vu instantly. That connection glows, then burns out. You hold it, then lose it. You try to go back, fail. It’s not you—it’s the cycle. That moment served its quiet purpose. Now the rhythm calls you onward. New timing, new presence, new pull.

You can’t hold onto every season. You can only live them fully. Let people come, then go. Let presence rise, then fall. You’re not meant to stay still. Your dasha moves, so must you. Each phase holds a quiet gift. Learn to read the silence, too. Not all eyes mean belonging. Not all fading means loss. The sky always knows your next chapter.